


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
PS V6F4 

ii^p. §tipijrig|i fo. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



1 



THE 



PLEASURES OF ACTION 



A POEM. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR. 
1S46. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, 

By Howell Evans, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern 
District of Pennsylvania. 



PART I. 



ARGUMENT. 

Introduction. Picture of a Sentimentalist — of a man of 
action. Action a universal law of Nature. Man's high- 
est pleasure consists in overcoming difficulties and per- 
forming noble deeds. Ease, luxury, pleasure, wealth, 
may be inherited or purchased; but each man must ac- 
quire his own knowledge. Our faculties, physical, mo- 
ral, and intellectual, decay in idleness, but improve with 
exercise. In what happiness consists. Life grows 
sweeter as it advances: but they are favoured of Hea- 
ven who die before their faculties begin to decay : for 
life is measured not by the number of our years, but 
by the use we have made of them. 



PART I. 

Time was, when energy and fire 
Were kindled by Apollo's lyre ; 
When every sentiment expressed 
Found echo in each manly breast. 
Inspiring courage, firmness, zeal, 
And all emotions hero's feel. 
Haply, a chosen few survive, 
Who still the ancient sounds revive: 
But hands degenerate touch the strings, 
And many a wanton idler sings. 
Who seeks to make no higher strain 
Than charms the ear of mistress vain, 
Or soothes, and helps to while away 
The vacant dreamer's vacant day. 

O Thou ! who hast inclined my heart 
To choose a better, manlier part. 
Do Thou instruct and guide me still! 
O, grant me courage, strength, and skill, 
To execute my noble theme ; 
To rouse the sluggard from his dream ; 



6 THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

To nerve the weak, the way to lead 
From noble thought to noble deed, 
Until the echoing hills around 
With Action, Action, shall resound ! 

Behold yon solitary man 
With visage gloomy, pale, and wan ! 
The listless step, the vacant eye, 
The trembling nerves, the long-drawn sigh. 
The wondering thought, the courage faint. 
The lonely walk, and silent haunt, — 
In these the baleful product see 
Of shadows, dreams, and fantasy! 
Grown imbecile in frame and mind, 
He shrinks from contact with his kind, 
The sport of every wind and wave, 
And every tyrant's helpless slave. 

But lo ! the slumberer now awakes, 
And from his limbs the torpor shakes ; 
Then hastes to mingle in the strife 
And tumult of an active life. 
And now the mighty charm is felt ; 
The frozen blood begins to melt, 
And through his veins, careering free. 
Infuses life and energy. 
How glows his mind with rapid thought ! 
How beats his heart, with courage fraught ! 



THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

How rings his voice ! how flames his eye ! 
His step — how bounding, firm, and free ! 
Thus Action doth the spirit wake, 
And heroes out of drivellers make. 

Action is Nature's constant law. 
In heaven above, and earth below: 
The planets whirling in their spheres, 
The comets in their wild careers. 
Pause not, nor rest, through endless years. 
Ten thousand rivers wind their way. 
With ceaseless murmurs, toward the sea ; 
And, even on old Ocean's breast. 
Their tireless waters do not rest, 
But ever on some rock-bound shore 
Impetuous dash, and foam, and roar; 
Or, tossed by howling tempests, roll. 
In endless waves, from pole to pole. 
The beast that roams the pathless wood. 
The fish that stems the rapid flood. 
The bird that cleaves the liquid air. 
The very worm that crawls the mire ; 
All, all obey the great decree ! 
Shall man, then. Nature's sluggard be? 

Lord of creation, in his breast 
Deep is the love of Action traced ; 



8 THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

And life no pleasure can supply 

Like that which springs from victory. 

What though his path 's beset with foes. 

And sudden dangers interpose? 

As when a stream of gentle force. 

Obstructed in its languid course, 

Extends itself along the shore, 

And gathers strength unfelt before ; 

Even so impediments impart 

New vigour to the human heart ; 

Kindled by them, ambitious fire 

Melts, or refines, each low desire. 

Whilst, spurning every sordid care, 

The spirit rises free as air. 

O ! let the enterprise be one 

Truth, honour, virtue, smile upon, — 

A noble action nobly done, — 

Then, if to mortal ever given. 

Then, then, descend the joys of Heaven. 

Ye, who in marble halls have dwelt, 
Nor griping poverty e'er felt ; 
Whose wants are bounteously supplied, 
And lightest wishes gratified ,* 
Strewn are your paths with fragrant flowers ! 
And gently glide the quiet hours ! 



THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

But oh, ye sluggards ! deem ye this 
The highest reach of human bliss 1 
Is this your noble destiny, — 
To eat, to drink, to sleep, to die ? 

Poor self-deceivers ! know you not 
That toil is man's appointed lot? 
Whence comes the rosy hue of health ? 
Whence comes the store of mental wealth? 
Go ask the strong, the wise, and learn 
That such is labour's rich return. 

Gold by a lucky fool is found, 
Or digged by hirelings from the ground ; 
Pleasure in every street is sold 
And weighed out in exchange for gold ; 
Power is obtained by special grace. 
Or purchased from a rogue in place ; 
But knowledge neither comes by chance. 
By favour, nor inheritance ; 
But he who would such wealth command, 
Must win it v/ith his own rio;ht hand. 

As water, which no longer flows, 
Corrupt and putrid quickly grows ; 
As the machine's suspended wheel, 
Though fashioned of the hardest steel, 
The gnawing tooth of rust will feel ; 



10 THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

As the mysterious magnet's power 
With use increases every hour, 
But rapidly grows less and less, 
And disappears, in idleness ; 
So the inactive man decays 
E'er he has numbered half his days, 
And dies, at last, a wretched drone. 
With half his faculties unknown ; 
So faith, hope, charity, at rest. 
Soon languish in the human breast, 
But, fanned by constant exercise, 
Kindle, and, glowing as they rise. 
Soar upward to their native skies. 

Go, then, ye sons of idle state ; 
Scorn not the simple labourer's fate ! 
What most ye seek, but do not find — 
A peaceful and contented mind — 
Is his : and toil knows no distress 
Like that which comes from idleness ; 
And happiness is this alone — 
The consciousness of duty done. 

Far in the western solitude. 
Where Mississippi pours its flood. 
Above the shore uprising, see, 
Yon ancient and majestic tree, 



THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 11 

Which spreads its branches far and wide, 
The eagle's nest, the forest's pride ! 
Proudly it soars ! but look again ; 
Behold it prostrate on the plain ! 
Approach, observe, and thou shalt find 
A striking emblem of mankind ; 
For lo ! around its heart appears 
The rottenness of fifty years. 

Thus human life, as years roll past. 
Grows sweet and sweeter to the last : 
The blood has lost its wonted heat. 
The pulse is scarce perceived to beat ; 
Sight, hearing, feeling, almost gone, 
And reason tottering on its throne ; 
Yet the expiring imbecile 
Clings to his honours proudly still. 
And mutters, with his latest groan, 
" 'Tis hard — alas ! to die — so soon." 

O ! happier, happier far, are they 
Whom heaven in mercy calls away, 
Ere yet descend the shades of night ; 
Ere age's frost begins to blight. 
Who would not rather sink to rest, 
A warm heart beating in his breast, 



12 THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

An arm yet strong, an eye yet true, 
A head to plan, a will to do, 
With ardent hopes, and visions bright, 
Whilst battling in the cause of right. 
Than live, corroding at the core, 
And die a driveller of fourscore ? 

Go, then ; if thou art j^'oung, be wise 
Improve each moment as it flies ; 
Fear not thy faculties to use ; 
Care not the bloom of youth to lose ; 
The present hour is bright and sure, 
The future doubtful and obscure. 
Why fear to wear thyself away, 
Since idleness brings sure decay ? 
Or, is life measured by disease. 
By palsies, and infirmities ? 
Fools ! o'er our whitening hairs to grieve ; 
'Tis in our actions that we live : 
Yes ! as the car of time careers. 
Our deeds are numbered, not our years. 



PART II 



ARGUMENT. 

Diversity of Man's character suited to his condition. Na- 
ture furnishes so great a variety of pursuits, that none 
need be idle. All action is pleasure. The Huntsman. 
The Warrior. The Missionary. Fulton v/ith his inven- 
tion. Tlie Artist over his canvass. The Orator. 



PART II. 

As throughout Nature's works we see 
An infinite variety, 
So in the human heart and mind, 
Equal diversity we find ; 
For he who acts in scenes like these, 
Needs many different qualities : 
Thus, 'midst our struggles, what can be 
More beautifi:il than sympathy ? 
Unconsciously the heart it fills. 
And like the electric current thrills, 
Till envy, hatred, malice, gone, 
Our bosoms beat in unison. 
Yet, though to mercy tears are due. 
There is a time for sternness too ; 
And illy he performs his part 
Who does not sometimes steel his heart, 
And, without pity or remorse. 
Let harshest justice take its course. 

Thus whilst the sun diffuses heat, 
And makes the pulse of nature beat. 



16 THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

Till, quickened by its genial ray, 
Hill, valley, plain, look green and gay. 
Fierce hurricanes alone can clear 
A stagnant, poisonous atmosphere ; 
The lightning's flash, the thunder's roar 
Alone its purity restore. 

That none of all mankind may be 
Constrained to inactivity, 
Nature, with bounteous hand, supplies 
A thousand forms of exercise 
Each hath its own peculiar bliss, 
And they alone all pleasure miss 
Who live in stagnant idleness. 

Hark ! to yon far-resounding horn, 
Waking the echoes of the morn ! 
The startled deer in terror fly ; 
The eager pack in concert cry ; 
Then, as with headlong, reckless speed. 
The huntsman spurs his mettled steed 
O'er hill, o'er dale, o'er field, o'er flood, 
How does his animated blood 
Bound, till each blue and sweUing vein 
With life and rapture thrills again ! 



THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 17 

So is the warrior in the fight 
Transported with a fierce delight. 
The pealing cannon loudly roars ; 
The leaden hail descends in showers ; 
The squadrons rush from wing to wing ; 
The broadswords flash, the helmets ring ; 
The rising smoke with sulphurous clouds, 
Both friend and foe in darkness shrouds. 
Save when the flashing fires, the gloom 
With baleful radiance illume ; 
Whilst, from the dread obscure, arise 
A thousand shouts and battle cries. 
Mingled with dying agonies. 

Then docs the warrior's bosom swell ! 
Flash from his eyes the fires of hell ! 
And as with shouts of victory 
His conquering legions rend the sky, 
He gallops o'er the smoking sod, 
Drenched to a mire with human blood. 
Exulting with the savage glee 
Of an infernal deity. 

Thus the usurper wins his crown ; 
Thus wades through slaughter to a throne ; 
And man, the victim of his rage. 
Echoes his fame from age to age. 
2 



18 THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

But oh ! there comes a brighter day, 

When all his wreaths shall fade away: 

When all the badges of his fame 

Shall blacken into brands of shame : 

A day when men at last shall know 

A benefactor from a foe, 

Nor blindly worship, as a god, 

Each villain smeared with human blood : 

When he alone shall gain applause 

Who battles in his country's cause. 

Or 'gainst some tyrant aims his stroke. 

And sheathes his sword when he has broke 

The clanking chain and galling yoke. 

Then shall those valiant soldiers, too, 

Receive the meed of honour due. 

Who, bearing neither shields nor swords. 

Save guileless hearts and gentle words, 

Go forth to civilize and bless 

The savage of the wilderness. 

And traverse every sea and land 

Where Pagans dwell, or idols stand. 

The only lawful conquerors ! 

The heroes of the universe ! 

No blazing towers, or ruins black. 

Attend their march, or mark their track ; 

No corses blackening in the sun 

Proclaim where fields were fought and won. 



THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 19 

Nor in the hour of triumph waves 
Their banner o'er a land of slaves. 

No ! in their progress scattering free 
The seeds of Christian liberty, 
Soon peace, and love, and virtue dwell 
Where reigned before, sin, death, and hell. 
What victory can equal this ? 
What conqueror feels such tranquil bliss 
As they who rebel subjects bring 
To bow before their Heavenly King ? 
Nor theirs the happiness alone ; 
But, rising to the Eternal Throne, 
Whilst new disciples make each grove 
Vocal with songs of praise and love, 
Joy spreads through all the realms above. 

O ! if within your heart you feel 
What sluggards call fanatic zeal. 
Heed not the world's contempt or ire. 
But cherish the Promethean fire ! 
For from its life-engendering heat 
Springs all that 's good, and all that's great. 

But yesterday, and Fulton's scheme 
Was laughed at as an idle dream : 



20 THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

With dauntless faith he persevered 
Whilst all the world in concert sneered, 
Nor doubted once, that having wrought 
In iron wheels and bolts, his thought, 
The semblance of a living soul 
Would quicken and inform the whole. 

At length the hour of trial came, 
Pregnant with glory or with shame : 
His boat upon the wave, alas ! 
Floats too and fro a helpless mass : 
And hark ! how rings the dreadful cry 
Of rage and scornful irony ! 
But whilst they mock, and rail, and jeer, 
He stands unmoved by doubt or fear; 
One moment ponders thoughtfully. 
Then boldly hoists his signal high : 
Instant the vessel spreads its wing, 
And, as it moves, a living thing, 
Hark ! how they make the welkin ring ! 

Upon the vacant canvass, see 
Yon artist gazing pensively. 
Obscure and shadowy forms arise, 
A moment mock his aching eyes. 
But e'er he can their outlines trace 
Vanish again in empty space. 



THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 21 

And in his fevered brain leave nought 

But tantahzing ghosts of thought. 

As in a restless sleep he seems, 

Tossed and perplexed with troubled dreams : 

But as the visions brighter grow, 

Mark, how his eye begins to glow ! 

And when, mid trembling hopes and fears, 

Each living, speaking form appears. 

What tongue can adequately tell 

The raptures which his bosom swell! 

And see the orator ascend 
Where listening multitudes attend ! 
He gazes round with awe and dread ; 
Trembles his lip, and droops his head ; 
His eye is dim, his fancy cold; 
His thoughts are wandering uncontrolled. 
Can this be he upon whose tongue 
Delighted crowds so oft have hung ? 
But now, amid the inward strife, 
His faculties are waked to life, 
And as his torpid blood grows warm 
How beams his eye ! how swells his form ! 
Imagination plumes her wing; 
Freely and clear his accents ring; 
Each argument which reason frames 
Passion, with glowing heat, inflames. 



22 THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

And every look emotion wakes, 
And every graphic gesture speaks. 
Now sympathetic warmth inspires, 
And every hearer's bosom fires, 
Until, obedient to his sway, — 
All past impressions swept away, — 
He moulds them as the potter's clay, 
O ! son of eloquence divine. 
What earthly sceptre equals thine ! 
Despotic force our limbs may bind, 
But eloquence enchains the mind. 



PART III. 

ARGUMENT. 

Grief and suffering are, in some degree, the lot of all — of 
the virtuous as well as of the wicked. But virtue is 
the only comforter in adversity. What is greatness ? 
Let no man trust to the guidance of another in his 
journey through life, but let each use his own faculties. 
Do the best you can ; and stand firm at the post of duty. 
In conclusion — the special duty of Americans consid- 
ered, arising from their peculiar situation. 



PART III. 



Yet think not, hope not here below, 
To pass untouched the cup of woe; 
For some drink more, and some drink less, 
But all must taste its bitterness ; 
And as the lightning's random stroke 
Smites city, tower, or forest oak ; 
As equal falls the grateful rain 
On sterile waste, and fertile plain. 
So virtue oft is prostrate laid 
Whilst vice in triumph rears its head ; 
So wickedness and piety- 
Share fortune's favours equally. 

But oh ! when dire afflictions come 
And wrap the soul in midnight gloom ; 
When honour changes to disgrace, 
And friendship wears a frowning face; 
When pains the prostrate body wring, 
And hope is trembling on the wing, 



26 THE PLEASURES OP ACTION. 

Then, in calamity's dark hour, 
Virtue displays her heavenly power : 
There, on the margin of the grave, 
Thou, Virtue, thou alone canst save. 

Accuse not Providence, nor Fate, 
Because thy actions seem not great ; 
But look around ! how is it, then. 
With heroes and with mighty men? 
What are their best achievements worth 
Weighed in the balances of earth? 
Or can they raise their thoughts above. 
Where worlds on worlds unnumbered move 
Nor sink down, humbled with a sense 
Of utter insignificance? 

And deeds which thou esteemest least, 
May prove to be thy greatest, best; 
For He who sees not as man sees, 
Employs mysterious agencies, 
And humblest envoys often sends 
To bring about his greatest ends. 

Thus oft we trace to things most small 
The rise of empires and their fall : 
And who or hears, or feels, or sees 
The pestilence upon the breeze, 



• THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 27 

'Till, dropping like the silent dew, 
It works unutterable woe? 
Or who can tell, its message done, 
Whence it hath come, or whither gone? 
And see yon vessel plough its way 
Athwart the billows of the sea! 
Not driven along by spreading sail. 
But dashing on against the gale : 
And what is this tremendous power? 
'Tis vapour! vapour! nothing more. 

Yes! in the world's complex machine, 
Whilst man admires the bright and mean, 
The rusty wheel he often spurns 
On which the fabric mainly turns. 

Think not with gold a chart to buy 
To show where rocks and quicksands lie; 
Think not with gold to hire a guide 
To walk for ever at thy side : 
No ! thy uncertain feet must stray 
Where burning ploughshares strew the way. 
Then trust not to a broken reed 
To save you in the hour of need. 
But from your slumber wake ! arise ! 
And put forth all your energies ; 



28 THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

For they by God himself were given 

To guide your steps through earth to heaven. 

What though one effort prove in vain ? 
Renew the attempt again, again ; 
Never despair nor yield the strife 
Until you yield the breath of life : 
For He, the Great Eternal Sire, 
Equal success will not require. 
From all varieties of men, — 
Some with one talent, some with ten, — 
But this alone will be the test, 
Hath every man but done his best ? 

Then faithfully perform thy part. 
With a confiding, tranquil heart, 
Grieve not because thou canst not see 
The ripened fruit of industry : 
'Tis sometimes slow, and sometimes fast, 
But never fails to come at last. 
The husbandman upon the plain 
Profusely strews his choicest grain. 
Nor doubts, through storm, or heat, or cold, 
That he will reap an hundred fold ; 
So shouldst thou feel an equal trust. 
Though bruised and prostrate in the dust, — 
That Providence is always just. 



THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 29 

But he that would the ills of life 
O'ercome, must arm him for the strife ; 
Ne'er from the post of duty fly, 
But bravely conquer there or die. 
One step in this encounter lost 
His liberty, his life may cost ; 
For swift the opposing ranks will close, 
And faster, harder, fall their blows, 
'Till, hope and resolution gone, 
Some puny whipster smites him down. 

Go thou ! and when calamities 
Around thee in battalions rise ; 
When festering wounds thy body smart, 
And anguish wrings thy bleeding heart. 
Then, brace thy nerves, and summon up 
A double share of faith and hope ; 
Oppose to each advancing ill 
A firm, indomitable will, 
And, though their name be legion, all 
Before the Monarch Mind will fall. 

But ah ! to see the portals closed 
Where all our early hopes reposed ; 
To see ambition, pride, and power 
Prostrate in one disastrous hour. 



30 THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

And every path we loved to tread 

With thorns, and snares, and pitfalls spread ; 

Can human resolution bear 

Such woes as these, and not despair? 

Yes ! even when thus tempest-tost, 

A wise man will not deem all lost. 

But calmly trim and shift his sail. 

Obedient to the shifting gale, 

And running down before the wind, 

Leave destined port and prize behind, 

And in some more congenial sea. 

Pursue another destiny. 

Thus man in every time and place, 
Poor, rich, in honour, or disgrace. 
In ceaseless action still shall find 
The great physician of the mind. 

If such the general lot, oh, then 
'Tis doubly yours my countrymen ! 
For there is need, in this broad land, 
Of every head, and every hand. 
A land upon whose ample shore 
Two distant oceans break and roar ; 
A land where boundless forests spread, 
Unbroken by the white man's tread ; 



THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 31 

A land of prairies, and of hills, 
Of gushing springs, and murmuring rills ; 
A land of vines, and fruits, and flowers, 
Of mines, and minerals, and ores ; 
A land where mighty rivers flow. 
Where mountains of eternal snow 
Look down on blooming vales below ; 
A land of caverns, gulfs, and seas, 
Of wonders, and of prodigies. 

And can ye find no work to do ? 
'Tis yours this wildness to subdue ; 
To make the uncultivated plain 
Rich with its crops of golden grain; 
The howling wilderness to clear, 
And build the town and city there ; 
To sink the shaft, the mine explore, 
And bring to hght the hidden ore; 
Highways to build through pathless woods. 
And channels trace in winding floods ; 
Thus round and round the wide domain 
To wrap and link the friendly chain, 
That, whilst its borders wide expand, 
The Union may for ever stand. 

Nor this alone your task; for Heaven 
A higher destiny has given; 



32 THE PLEASURES OF ACTION. 

And placed you in the Nations' van 
To guard the sacred rights of man. 
There let your banner ever wave, 
Or welcome there a glorious grave ! 
But oh ! should your degenerate host 
Basely desert the honoured post, 
Or seek in danger's hour to fly 
And yield the cause of liberty, 
May righteous Heaven His thunders dread 
Level against each recreant's head ; 
And may his corse, unburied there, 
Batten the carion birds of air ! 

Yes ! be your banner raised on high. 
Spreading its folds along the sky; 
And let it freely float and wave 
'Till every serf, and every slave, 
Shall rise, and shake himself amain, 
And break the oppressor's galling chain : 
'Till every heartless tyrant's throne. 
Heaved from its base, shall crumble down. 
And, from its ruins, spring the tree 
Of Democratic Liberty. 



THE END. 



